


Through Happenstance [Old version]

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Update as of 1st March 2018: I have decided to edit and repost this unanon under a new accounthere.This version will remain up for the foreseeable.Edward is often drunk and lonely. One night, his decision to be drunk and lonely in public nets him a boy from the local brothel, which is just about the last thing he wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a nebulous fantasy Edwardian-ish era. (The character’s name is a coincidence.) Thank you to every nonnie who gave comments and encouragement.

The first thought Edward had upon waking was _needles_. Hundreds of tiny needles in his mouth, several big ones in his left shoulder, a gigantic one going right through his skull. For a moment, he wondered if he’d been abducted and subjected to medical experimentation.

Having ascertained that there were no actual needles anywhere in him, he sat up and squinted at the blurry figure sitting at his bedside. A fellow abductee? No, no, that wasn’t it. Just how much had he drunk last night?

“You’re awake.”

“Yes,” Edward agreed automatically.

“Here.” The figure came into better focus as he leaned over and handed him a glass of water. He was young, about five years younger than Edward’s thirty, and had a mop of dark curls. Edward accepted the water with a murmur of thanks.

Once he’d drained the glass, he began again to work through his confusion. “I’m not sure we…have we met?”

The young man raised his head. Edward couldn’t help noticing that his eyes were the most beautiful brown. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend…”

“You bought me.”

 

Edward paced the floor as though that could improve his memory of the previous night.

He’d had one of his crises, one of those evenings he’d spent walking through his empty flat, feeling thoroughly alone. Not, of course, that he wanted _him_ back, the lying, cheating - regardless, he had no one to talk to in the evenings, no one to curl up in bed with on a cold night. No one who looked at him tenderly from across the table. He’d felt lonely down to his bones.

 

_“Just one more,” he slurred._

_The barman looked askance at him. “That’s what you said last time.”_

_“Mean it this time.”_

_“If you say so.”_

_Edward nodded solemnly. “Just the one, then off to bed. Alone.” He traced the shape of a bed on the bar, then jabbed at one corner of it. “That’s me. There. Alone.”_

_“Right.” The barman rolled his eyes and gestured at another customer to approach._

 

“I don’t understand.”

The young man — whose name was Simon, it transpired — shrugged. “As I said, you bought me. You came to the tavern, you know the one - ”

“Yes, yes, I know the one,” Edward groaned. In his mind, the place was simply labelled “The Tavern” in garish red lettering, even though its actual exterior was dull enough to belie its reputation. “I don’t know what could have possessed me to go _there_.”

Simon drew himself up, looking slightly offended. “You were there. You paid to take me off Mr Lowry’s hands. He wanted rid of me, and your friend said you were in desperate need of a companion.”

_Friend?_ Edward shook his head; he had no idea who this friend might have been. “Why was Mr Lowry willing to, er, sell you?”

“If you must know,” Simon snapped, “I was ‘underperforming’. Not drawing enough customers. I was virtually out of rotation.”

_Oh._ “So I, that is, we didn’t…”

“They told me to pack my bags and follow you home. I didn’t have a choice.”

Resentment — that was the word, Edward remembered, for the the emotion clouding Simon’s face. What had he done? How much had he spent? Who had this “friend” been? “Well, listen. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but we can sort it out. You’re welcome to stay with me in the meantime — you can’t have many other options.” That earned him a glare, making him wince at his own lack of tact. He buried his face in his hands and tried to massage some sense into his head.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” Simon’s voice suddenly sounded different. More solicitous, perhaps.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“How do you want me, then?”

Edward looked up, and the laugh died on his lips as he realized his guest was completely serious.

-

Edward frowned. “I don’t want to be like the others. If we do reach that point, I want it to be because you want me.”

Simon stifled a sigh. He was beginning to tire of trying to make Edward understand. In his right mind or not, Edward had paid a princely sum for him; now he had to prove he’d been worth it. If he couldn’t…it didn’t bear thinking about.

Rising from his seat, he put his hands on Edward’s waist. “I do want you,” he whispered. “I want to make you happy. Let me show you…”

Edward’s eyes fluttered shut briefly at the touch of lips to his neck, but before Simon could wrap his arms around him, he pulled back. “You’re still doing it.”

“What?”

“Trying to get me to agree to just…use you,” Edward replied, growing more irritable by the second. “I don’t understand. If nothing else, I’m offering you a respite from all that. I’ve already said you’re welcome to stay.”

“Then let me pay for my keep,” Simon purred, reaching out again and pawing at Edward’s belt buckle. “I can make you feel amazing.”

“You don’t have to! This - ” Edward gestured between them. “It’s nothing to you, isn’t it? You don’t know anything about me. Why would I want to sleep with someone who doesn’t even like me?”

That gave Simon pause. Truthfully, he’d liked Edward’s looks from the moment he’d laid eyes on him. It had been a long time since he’d thought that way about anyone — dared to fantasize about those strong hands running over his body, those thick thighs straddling him as they fucked. It didn’t matter in the end, as he was there to do a job, but it couldn’t hurt…“I do have eyes,” he said quietly, dropping the seductive tone to show he was in earnest. “I think you’re good-looking.”

Edward scoffed. “That part of your script?”

That stung. Simon asked himself why it should; being passed over hadn’t exactly been a rare occurrence lately. “Your heart’s not in it,” one of the other boys had remarked off-hand, and at the time he’d dismissed it. Of course his heart wasn’t in it. He just needed to become good at cloaking his distaste again.

This time, though, he’d been sincere.

“I’ll go, then,” he said, voice brittle.

Edward took a step back as though he was actually surprised. “Go where?”

“I don’t know, somewhere else. If there’s nothing for me to do here.”

“I didn’t say that.” Before Simon could protest, Edward gently pushed him back into the chair and sat down on the bed, facing him. “I’m sure there’s something.”

“Like what?”

“Well, such as…” Edward’s hands made wide circular motions. “You could...”

Simon doubted very much that he’d hear anything believable. Mentally, he started counting the seconds. _Nine, ten…fourteen…_

“Look.” Suddenly, Edward was standing in front of him again. It was unfortunate how good a view this gave him of certain body parts; he had to stop himself from licking his lips. “The truth is, I’m all alone, and it’s not nice. It’s why I get so drunk sometimes, and as you can see, the result - my point is, I would appreciate it if you could just, you know, be here. Honestly.”

It was an absurd proposition. Surely, once Edward found out exactly how much he’d paid (and lost a good portion of to the “friend” who’d arranged the sale), it would sound even more absurd. “What would I do all day?”

“We can worry about that later.” Edward waved his right hand in a vague gesture, then patted Simon warmly on the shoulder. It was obvious from his faraway look that he didn’t realize what he was doing.

-

Simon didn’t make a habit of watching people sleep. Clients never stayed overnight, not that he’d have wanted any of them to. But this was different (he told himself) — he wasn’t used to being free at night, and there was little else to do.

Edward lay dangerously close to the left edge of the bed, almost hanging off, just as he’d done the night Simon had brought him home. At a guess, he was used to having someone in bed with him. And yet he’d…Simon shook his head. Dwelling on being rejected was not productive.

Leaning back against the doorframe, he closed his eyes for a moment to replay the events of the day.

  


Edward looked increasingly faint as Mr Lowry, looking increasingly smug, explained that he’d promised to write promotional materials for The Tavern, both its licit and illicit businesses. He came very close to actually fainting when he realized that he’d emptied his wallet.

“That,” he said, shaking, “was almost two months’ earnings.”

Mr Lowry grinned. “And a very good two months they were. I’m quite fond of your stories myself, actually. I pay for the magazines that carry them — entertainment for the sitting room, you see. In a way I’m only getting some of my money back.”

Simon cringed as Edward tried to find the words and failed, as he often seemed to do when not in front of a typewriter.

“Of course,” Mr Lowry said, still smiling behind his steepled fingers, “if you’re dissatisfied with the arrangement, I could always take the boy off your hands — for a small fee to cover the lost time, obviously.”

_And there it is._ Simon closed his eyes and resigned himself to the inevitable.

“What do you say?”

“No.”

Simon’s eyes snapped open in shock.

“No?”

Edward went to his desk and pulled out a gold cigarette case. “Consider whatever this fetches a replacement for my writerly services,” he told Mr Lowry calmly. “I have no intention of expending valuable time on your business, but otherwise, I’m satisfied with this…arrangement.”

Mr Lowry’s surprise, grudging agreement, and half-amused look at Simon seemed to simply blur together and fade away. When the door shut behind him, Edward turned around with a wobbly smile. 

“I think that went well,” he said, blowing out an exaggerated _phew_ like a little boy. “As well as it could have. Considering.”

“Why did you do that?!” was the only question that came to Simon’s mind.

“What do you mean? You don’t want to go back, do you?”

“I - no, but - ”

“I meant what I said earlier.” Edward was doing it again — absentmindedly touching Simon, this time stroking his arm and sending sparks through his body. “You can keep me company. Just _be_ here, talk to me, or we can…” He evidently lost his train of thought, shrugged, and took up another one. “Besides, I don’t smoke. What a stupid gift that was.”

“It must have been worth a fortune.”

“Maybe. I suppose. It’s not something I wanted to keep.”

Simon didn’t pry. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Edward, guiding his arms around himself until they were in a loose embrace.

“Simon…”

“Shh.” He hadn’t been kissed like this in ages — unhurried, soft presses of lips between shared breaths. “Take me to bed,” he whispered. “Let me say thank you for everything.”

The warmth left as quickly as it had enveloped him. There was that frown on Edward’s face again — apprehensive, a bit concerned. “You don’t need to ‘thank’ me that way.”

“I want to. I don’t know how else…”

“See, that’s the problem.” They were feet apart now, Simon noted with a shiver. “I don’t want - if you see it as an _obligation_ , how do you think it’ll feel for me?”

He had no answer to that — not one that would go over well with Edward, anyhow. He sighed and gave a short nod to show that he understood.

“Come on,” Edward said gently, taking his arm. “I’ll show you to your room.”

-

The mass of sheets in the middle of the bed rose and fell to the sound of deep, even breaths.

Putting aside the brief thought of joining Simon, Edward returned to his own room and raised a mirror in front of his face. It appeared that he’d gained a wrinkle (small, but distinct) and a few new grey strands (camouflaged by the blond around them, but only in certain lights).

It was true that he’d had to cope with a lot of upheaval in the past few days. Still, visible changes were a bit of a blow.

_But with you? I was only going through the motions with you._

Yesterday he’d not only gotten rid of the last physical reminder, but also exchanged it for something new — a new chapter in his life in which he would shed the mental reminders as well. It hadn’t gone entirely well so far…

_I was only going through the motions with you._

A clatter from the kitchen jolted him out of the memory. A little spring of happiness bubbled up in his heart at the noises he heard; Simon was evidently making himself at home.

  


“Tea?”

“Thanks.”

It was a nice, unremarkable domestic scene — the two of them at the table, looking at each other over the rims of their cups — if one set aside the repeated seduction attempts and the fact that Simon had been bought and paid for. Edward sipped his tea and shrugged those thoughts off. They were hardly relevant now.

“I’ll have to spend most of the week working, I’m afraid,” he told Simon apologetically. “It’s, well, I need to produce more than usual. Don’t,” he added when Simon made to get up, a guilty look on his face. “There’s no need to - it’s all right, I promise. I haven’t been bankrupted. I just thought I’d tell you in case…don’t know, in case you had plans.”

Simon shrugged. “What plans would I have?”

“No, you’re right, that was - anyway, I’ll be here. Just busy.”

They spent the morning within a few feet of each other, Edward at his desk and Simon reading in a nearby chair. When the clock struck noon, he threw his pen down and stretched out his arms.

Simon came up behind him and put surprisingly strong hands on his shoulders. “Sore?”

“Mm.”

Edward’s misgivings about Simon’s intentions turned out to be unfounded. After a few minutes, he reluctantly shifted away and turned around with a smile, intending to suggest that they have lunch. Instead, he found himself lost in Simon’s eyes.

“That was nice,” he murmured as he reflected again upon how lovely they were, barely conscious of the words he was saying.

The way they flashed with amusement startled him back into politeness. “I mean, I meant, _thank you_.”

Simon chuckled. “You’ve had a long morning.”

“Sorry. Let’s, um…” Edward gestured toward the kitchen. He knew he was staring, taking in how Simon’s face lit up when he was laughing, but Simon didn’t seem to mind.

-

“I can’t sleep.”

Sometimes, Simon talked to himself. It wasn’t unexpected when he’d been isolated most of the time at the tavern. Clients didn’t usually want to talk beyond basic pleasantries; the ones who did loved the sound of their own voices too much to let him get a word in.

“Everything all right?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, and again at the sight of Edward hovering at his door.

“Sorry, I thought I heard something.”

“You did,” Simon admitted. “Just me. Having trouble sleeping.”

“Ah.”

Over the past week, they’d settled into something like a routine — Edward wrote, Simon enjoyed his newfound freedom (and boredom, albeit a pleasant sort), they had meals together and went to sleep in their separate bedrooms.

Casual touches had also become part of the routine. For Simon they were both a relief and a plague on his senses, but he didn’t think pushing for more was a good idea. They’d only end up retreading the will we-won’t we arguments they’d had at the start.

That didn’t stop him from daydreaming for increasingly longer stretches of time about how it would be — if he just pounced one day, if one of them backed the other up against the desk and sent the typewriter flying, if they fumbled their way through the flat and it all ended with them naked, entangled, and sated, that sinking fear of losing his home gone from his stomach and the awful loneliness gone from Edward’s eyes.

“I could sit up with you for a while,” Edward suggested.

Simon made an exasperated face at that. “I’m not a child.”

“No, absolutely. You’re right.” Edward nodded and cleared his throat. “I’ll go then. Leave you to it.”

“Stay.”

They both froze for a moment.

“You mean…”

Simon nodded. “Look at it this way. At the…it wasn’t something that a client would ever do.”

Edward appeared to digest this. “If you’re sure,” he said, shuffling awkwardly toward the bed.

At first, they didn’t touch; they lay side by side, arms parallel, and talked of mundane things. The new murder mystery serial whose third chapter Edward had just completed ( _”I never would have taken you for a murder mystery writer.” “Am I so boring?” “I thought you’d write happier stories.”_ ), Simon’s desire to be out and about more in the neighborhood ( _“But I wouldn’t want to run into certain people.” “I could go with you.” “Maybe.”_ )

As they were drifting off, Simon rolled to his side and put an arm across Edward’s chest. He didn’t think it would be pushing too much; it was only a little physically closer than they tended to get these days. He wanted the comfort, but more than that, he wanted to give more back than he had. Edward had been so generous, so kind. It was the least he could do.

With a sleepy sigh, Edward turned so that he could pull Simon closer.

-

Edward hid his face as soon as he’d spoken. “No,” he moaned into the pillow, hoping it would absorb some of his humiliation.

A hand on his back did nothing to mollify him. Neither did Simon reassuring him that he understood. “I can see why you’re curious,” he was saying, far too casually. “You’re a writer. You’re used to doing research.”

“Please just forget I asked.”

“What do you want to know?”

Edward begrudgingly raised his head to examine Simon’s face. His expression was weather-discussion neutral.

“Most of them were there for something easy and quick,” he began, rolling onto his back when Edward stayed silent. “They didn’t say much about their lives. There was no time to get attached, so to speak.”

“I suppose I wondered…whether any of them were there for something more. Companionship. Someone to share a bed with, even if it was only for a few hours.”

“Maybe. If they were, I couldn’t tell.”

“I see.” _Not like you,_ Edward imagined Simon thinking. _You’ve put it all on display from the beginning._ He didn’t know whether that would be a positive or negative in Simon’s eyes. “This isn’t research,” he added; it had occurred to him that he really ought to clarify. “I’m not planning to write a novel about life in a brothel with a thinly disguised version of you as the hero.”

“Good to know.”

“Yes. Well.”

“I did meet someone, once,” Simon said slowly, apparently reaching further back into his memory. “He - well, he was like you, told me felt alone and wanted a change from that.”

“Really?”

“He never came back. I assume I wasn’t what he was looking for.”

_I think you might be exactly what I was looking for._ Before Edward could decide how to phrase that idea into a response, Simon rolled back onto his side and slid closer, and the easy way their bodies fit together took priority in Edward’s thoughts.

He spent the day in a blur, outwardly working on a manuscript but preoccupied with what the arrangements would be that evening — whether he’d be asked to stay again, whether this would become a regular part of their schedule. He considered confiding that he’d come to dislike his own bed, even if it would make him seem a bit pathetic.

He needn’t have worried; when bedtime came around and he turned in the direction of his bedroom, Simon looked at him quizzically. “Aren’t you joining me?” 

When they’d settled down and his cheek was slightly squished against Simon’s hair, Edward let out the slowest, quietest sigh of relief possible. He’d been so desperate to have this closeness again, but not so desperate that he’d demand it as if he’d paid for the privilege.

Of course, strictly speaking, he had. He wished he hadn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon flung out his arm and caught Edward by the sleeve. “It can’t be ten o’clock yet.”

“It is.”

“Maybe your clock is broken.”

“I heard the church bells.”

“You must have counted wrong.” 

Edward reached down and ruffled his hair. “If you don’t get out of bed in the next five minutes, I can’t promise anything with regard to breakfast.”

Simon watched him go with a rueful smile. This was all well and good, and new to him. He’d never had a proper lover, at least not one he could have this playful back-and-forth with. But that wasn’t all he was there for, was it? They’d lived together long enough, even shared a bed and the occasional kiss, but that wasn’t all he wanted.

Oh yes, he wanted. Having Edward’s body wrapped around his on a nightly basis had given rise to all sorts of new ideas about what they might do in the absence of clothes and inhibitions. Pinning down, being pinned down, laid out on the bed, draped over the edge — he wasn’t fussy. Each time, he imagined blue eyes sparkling with contentment and a hand caressing his face — _I’m glad I’ve got you._

Buoyed by the thought, he kicked off the covers and went to join Edward.

  


It was easy, in the end. A jokey argument over the fair distribution of bed space became a tussle, and the tussle became him reaching under Edward’s shirt and stroking the heated skin of his back as they kissed.

Their eyes met, and the wonder he saw told him all he needed to know.

It became them stripping each other between gasps and giggles, and rolling around on the bed, too keyed up to negotiate anything beyond pushing against each other and groping. It was still good, so good that all it took was a few rough strokes to get Edward coming over his hand and on their stomachs with a groan of deep satisfaction. 

Simon flopped down on his back next to him and exhaled. 

Panting, Edward leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that,” he laughed, then lowered his voice. “What do you need? Tell me.”

Simon smiled at the quick puffs of breath that tickled his ear. “It’s not important,” he answered airily; the sights and sounds he’d just witnessed were enough material for later.

The arm around his middle became rigid. “What did you say?”

He pulled back a little so that they were looking directly at each other. “I said it’s not important. I can - you know, don’t worry about it,” he told Edward, patting his still-heaving chest. God, it was a nice chest. “It’s late. Get some sleep.”

He wasn’t prepared for the sudden loss of contact. Edward sat up so abruptly that it felt like a sharp burst of winter air had pushed them apart.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought…” Edward seemed to be considering his words carefully. “I thought this - _we_ were different.”

“What do you mean?” Simon asked, trying to reach out and touch him again. 

Edward twisted away. “You said…” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “I can’t do this. We shouldn’t have…”

Simon’s heart hammered in his chest as he tried to work out what had just happened. “Wait,” he began weakly, but Edward was already walking away from him and out of the room.

-

Edward still didn’t understand.

He felt as lost as he had that first day, when he’d woken up to find a stranger at his bedside and the stranger had offered sex like it was a cup of tea. In fact, he felt even more lost now. He’d thought they weren’t strangers anymore — that they’d each come to know what the other wanted — but it was clear he’d been wrong. How could he have been so wrong?

A soft knock startled him, made him wrap his cold sheets more tightly around himself. He looked up and shivered at the sight of Simon standing just inside the door, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

“What do you want?”

He found no gratification in Simon’s little flinch at his tone. He didn’t want to be so angry, least of all at him.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

_Look, the truth is, when I’m with him, I feel everything a person in love should feel, especially when we’re - well, I’ll spare you the details. I don’t want to upset you needlessly._

_But with you? I was only going through the motions with you._

Edward squeezed his eyes shut. It had to be asked, no matter how broken and desperate he sounded. “Was it all an act?” he whispered.

“What?”

“This. Us. Were you just g…” 

He found that he couldn’t say the words. After a moment’s silence, he heard footsteps and the creak of the chair next to his bed.

“Do you know how nice you are?” He opened his eyes in surprise; that wasn’t what he’d anticipated. “How attractive you are? I didn’t need to put on an act.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

“Why not?” Simon looked frustrated now. “You said you thought we were different, and we are. I actually _like_ doing things for you. I wanted to do everything that happened earlier. I’ve wanted it from the start. Isn’t that enough?”

Edward hung his head in despair as it dawned on him where they differed. “No.”

“But…”

“You’re thinking about ‘doing things for me’ and not what _you_ feel.” _If anything. If you’ve even once looked at me that way instead of as a duty._ “That’s not enough for me.”

“Would you like me to leave?”

Edward did not misinterpret the question. “And go where?”

“You’ve asked me before.” Simon looked down, let out a little ghost of a laugh. “I don’t know. I don’t know any more than I did then.”

“No!” The words spilled out like vomit onto the floor. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I’ve never wanted you to. You’ve been here the whole time, while we haven’t - how could you think that? That I’d throw you out on the streets? I thought we were past all of that.”

They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence until Edward, worn out from his mixed-up emotions, tamped them down and offered an out. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

Simon nodded; he seemed exhausted as well. “Tomorrow.”

-

Simon rubbed his tired eyes as a last attempt at delaying the inevitable. It didn’t stop time; it didn’t even stop him from stepping into the kitchen, so accustomed he’d become to it. When he took his hand away, he was confronted by the unexpected sight of Edward leaning against the sideboard with a glass of whisky in hand.

“It’s early for that,” he couldn’t help saying.

Edward’s lips turned up in what might have been appreciation at his concern. “I’m only having the one.”

Simon wasn’t alert enough to make the connection, but if he had been, he would have remembered that their relationship had begun with ill-advised drinking, just as it was about to end. “I’ve thought about it,” he ventured, walking up to talk to Edward face-to-face; he owed him that much. “And I think it’s best if I leave. I…” he paused and took a breath when Edward made to protest. “I understand that you’re happy to have me stay, and I’m grateful. But it wouldn’t be right to burden you any longer.”

“You’re not a burden, Simon.”

Simon smiled. How had he managed to end up with someone so decent? “I knew you’d say that,” he replied gently. “But I can’t give you what you need. I think last night proved that. And sooner or later, you’ll get tired of having me to look after, especially when you find someone else.” 

_And I don’t think I could stand by and watch that._ He shook his head at himself. He had no claim on Edward, yet here he was feeling jealous at the thought of another man encroaching on their domesticity, such as it was. It was getting ridiculous — _he_ was getting ridiculous.

Edward drained what was left in his glass in one gulp and set it down with a slightly unsteady hand. “I doubt it,” he said dismissively, voice amplified by the liquor. “It can’t have escaped your notice that I have not, in fact, been successful at finding someone else in the time we’ve known each other, or in the months before that.” He took an almost-full decanter from the sideboard and tipped it toward his glass, splashing some over the rim.

“I thought you were only having the one.”

Edward snorted and shrugged defiantly, but he didn’t pick up the newly filled glass. “I don’t think you know what I need.”

Simon felt some relief amid the unease at that; Edward seemed to be agreeing with his earlier statement. “So you do see my point of - ”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

The clock ticked loudly in the absence of conversation while Simon tried to untangle this. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, his mind still reeling.

“What do you think it means?” Edward glanced over at his whisky, picked it up, and took a large sip. “Sleep with me, don’t sleep with me,” he said, gesturing wildly with the glass in his hand. “Share my bed, or rather your bed, or don’t. Stay here during the day, or look for work elsewhere. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to lose you, and that’s all there is to it.”

_Why?_

“Look.” Edward walked over and put a somewhat stiff hand on Simon’s arm; the immediate warmth of his usual touch wasn’t there. “If you must go, it shouldn’t be like this. At least give me…give the decision a bit more time. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes,” Simon found himself agreeing, mesmerized by the tears he saw sparkling in Edward’s downcast eyes, before he realized what he was saying.

-

Edward had the feeling that three paragraphs was too many to dedicate to the inspector’s emotional turmoil at losing a piece of evidence. Contemplating the passage while cradling a cup of tea, he decided to give himself — and the inspector — the benefit of the doubt. The man _had_ made a terrible mistake that could destroy his case. Even stoic policemen were allowed to indulge in misery once in awhile, for what was life without misery?

He caught himself stretching his arms out behind him before he remembered. Simon could hardly be expected to carry on with the shoulder rubs now, and in any case, he’d gone for a post-supper walk.

Edward sighed as his own words echoed in his mind. _I don’t want to lose you._ When he’d said that, he’d been emboldened by the whisky and by panic, which had mounted at an alarming rate during their short conversation. If he was honest, he had no idea how his drunken rambling had convinced Simon to stay. For now.

More to the point, he wasn’t sure why he’d done it. They were basically strangers, without any ties (other than the transaction, which wasn’t worth considering) that might have given Edward a claim or right. What was making him hold on so tightly?

He heard the front door opening. A sip of tea helped him force a benign smile onto his face before he turned around.

“Good walk?” he asked lightly, as if he wasn’t thinking about how beautiful Simon was with exertion-flushed cheeks.

Simon nodded. “It was nice to get out.”

He probably hadn’t meant anything by it, but Edward’s heart still sank at the choice of words. “Right. Understandable.”

“It’s nice to come back as well.” Despite everything, the look that passed between them was affectionate. 

Affectionate, and warm. It warmed Edward more than any spirit could, and suddenly he realized why he was holding on — he couldn’t bear losing this. Even if _this_ was nowhere near the kind of relationship he wanted, even if that hurt, he couldn’t let it go.

He knew what he had to do now. To his mind, Simon’s philosophy was twisted; this need he seemed to have to prove himself by offering his body wasn’t the same as genuine desire. But if that validation was what he really wanted out of life, and if giving it to him made him less likely to run, then…

He reached out and stroked Simon’s arm slowly, bicep to wrist, hoping he was making his intentions clear.

Something fell off his desk with a crash as he was roughly pushed (When had he left his chair?) up against it. He was sure the remaining tea would spill at some point and that his manuscripts were already in disarray; a drawer handle was digging painfully into his thigh. It didn’t matter. Not much mattered in the moment except naked flesh pressing against his own and the hand between his legs urging them apart and the silky curls sliding through his fingers, all to a steady rhythm of heavy breaths and soft grunts. 

_I don’t want to lose you._

This wasn’t what he wanted, and he knew he would feel it in his bones later. But he could pretend, to a point, because he wanted the alternative even less.

-

Simon didn’t dare ask what had changed Edward’s mind.

2 o’clock in the afternoon and they were already in bed, manuscripts and household tasks temporarily abandoned. His forehead felt hot where it was pressed against Edward’s; his arms and legs were starting to ache with the strain of holding on.

Craving a change of pace, he took control, pushed himself down on Edward’s cock until it jerked inside him and they collapsed onto the bed, bodies plastered together. It was almost too perfect to be real, and he wasn’t about to question it.

Before he could catch his breath, he was being flipped onto his back. “You don’t have to - ” he gasped out, but the feeling of a mouth on him cut that thought off. It seemed to take no time at all for him to come, crying out and heels digging into the mattress.

“Thank you,” he murmured when the room came into focus again.

“There’s no need to thank me.”

When there was no further movement or talking, Simon chanced a sideways glance. Edward lay staring at the ceiling, hands clasped on his stomach and teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

Simon couldn’t help feeling that he’d missed a trick. He nudged Edward with his elbow. “Do you usually leave so much space between yourself and your men?”

To his relief, his joke was received with a chuckle. “‘My men’?”

“Well, it’s obvious you’ve done this before.” Simon snuggled closer and rested his head against Edward’s arm. “You must have had a fair few in your bed. And you’ll have more, and not just for this — something more serious as well, because you’re that kind of person, aren’t you?”

Edward stiffened. “I’m hardly going to look for that now.”

“But eventually.” A perverse part of Simon wanted to keep poking at the topic. Perhaps if he forced it to be said out loud, it wouldn’t keep poking at _him_. “Eventually you’ll look again, and…”

Edward pulled away a little and frowned at him. “I don’t know why we’re discussing this.”

“We - ” Simon cleared his throat. “We’re not.”

“Good.”

An uneasy silence descended upon the room. Simon didn’t fall asleep until the first light snore hit his ears.

-

Edward convinced himself that the crisp early-autumn air would prove inspirational for the chapter he was currently struggling with and that, for that reason, it was entirely normal to propose a quasi-romantic stroll. It would clear his mind and his lungs as well; he knew he spent too much time indoors.

For obvious reasons, he hadn’t been to the pub since _that_ night. If he overcompensated at home, no one had to know except Simon, who — bless him — threw worried glances in his direction when he reached for one drink more than he’d promised. It didn’t bother him. He could hardly do anything worse while drunk than he’d already done.

A brief sit-down to catch their breaths (Simon looked like he was bursting to make a joke about age and infirmity, but patted Edward’s hand instead) turned into a leisurely stretch of duck-watching. Just as Edward leaned back to get a better view of both ducks and man, he noticed.

It was definitely him. Handsome as ever; Edward actually felt a hitch in his breathing as his features came into clearer view. Wrapped up in a long wool coat — he’d always felt the cold more than others — and talking animatedly to another man whose face was hidden from Edward. Was that the…no, it didn’t matter whether it was, and he wouldn’t think about it. He would not.

_But I love you._

_The truth is, Edward…I don’t._

_What did you say?_

_I’m sorry, but I can’t keep pretending. What we have…it isn’t real anymore. Not for me._

“Edward?”

For a heart-dropping second, he thought his name had been called from afar. Then he remembered — Simon was at his side, and their hands were still touching. He breathed out slowly and laced their fingers together, a silent _Thank you._

“Let’s go home.”

He smiled at that. It was their home now, not just his lonely flat. They woke up together, put their mediocre cooking skills to use for each other, and chatted over tea. They made love — at least, he tried his best to regard it as making love, even if Simon didn’t see it as such — and they went to sleep curled up together. It wasn’t the perfection he thought he’d had before, but it was something.

_It isn’t real._

Edward shook his head. The sunset was lovely, the leaves were gorgeous, and Simon’s arm through his felt secure. All of those things were real enough, and so was the evening that awaited them at home.


	3. Chapter 3

“I know that look. Stop it.” 

Knowing Edward was mildly exasperated at most, Simon decided it was safe to pry just a little. “You seem bothered about something,” he said, indicating the glass in Edward’s hand.

“Might be.”

“Bothered enough that you’d abandon me for a drink?” he teased.

“I haven’t _abandoned_ you,” Edward huffed in amusement. “Come here, then.”

The armchair wasn’t built for two people, but they fit themselves in it, limbs tangled and faces squashed together, and Edward even managed to hold onto his glass. Simon watched idly as he swirled the gin.

“So…what is it?” he asked after a few minutes of watching.

“Earlier, when we, you know,” Edward began slowly, as if he was much more drunk than he was.

“Went for a walk?” Simon prompted, wondering why it was being referred to that way. He thought they’d both had a good time, on the whole.

“Yes, the walk.” Edward sighed deeply before continuing. “I suppose you should know…I was with someone. Before, obviously. We lived here together.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need to know,” Simon blurted out, then belatedly hoped that it had come across as giving Edward a way out of talking. He really didn’t need to know; of course he knew there had been others, proper lovers unlike what he was, but that was the extent to which he could think about it. He didn’t want to seek out details.

“One day,” Edward continued, apparently oblivious, “one day, he decided, or he had already decided - ” He cleared his throat several times. “That’s probably not important. The point is…I saw him.”

Simon remembered the moment of tension at the park, which he’d tried his best to ease. It hadn’t occurred to him to investigate what Edward was staring at.

The remaining gin disappeared down Edward’s throat in the blink of an eye. “I thought that with time, I could…I thought it would be easier to forget. I was wrong.”

_So this man is unforgettable, then?_

Simon bit back that thought before it became speech; he didn’t want it in his mind, let alone on his lips. Why, _why_ had he asked? No, it was irrelevant. Theirs was an arrangement rooted in mutual fondness and attraction, nothing more. It wasn’t his place to feel pangs of nonsensical emotion.

Carefully, he took the empty glass and set it down on the floor.

“Come to bed,” he murmured into Edward’s hair. “I think you’ve had enough.”

He felt a sense of dread at the crooked smile he got in return. Visible reluctance had never boded well for him.

-

Simon stirred and burrowed his head further into his pillow. “What’re you talking about?” he muttered sleepily.

“I said I’m sorry about last night,” Edward repeated. “I just…had a wobble.”

“’S all right.”

“Good.” Edward pulled Simon back a little tighter against his chest, relishing the closeness. The previous night, they’d ended up falling asleep as soon as their backs hit the bed; his confession had put more distance between them, somehow, instead of making them feel closer. What had he been thinking, getting all morose and burdening Simon of all people with it? He’d refrained from asking too many questions about the brothel or life before it, but he felt certain that it had involved worse things than being left by an unfaithful lover.

He didn’t like to think about just how much worse they would have been. He tightened his arms even more as if that could protect them both.

“How long were you together?”

The soft voice startled him back to wakefulness. “Mm?”

“You and him. How long were you together?”

“Three years.”

Simon shifted and rolled over so that they were face-to-face. “Do you think…” he started, then bit his lip.

“What?”

“If you could have him back.” 

Edward waited for the rest of the question, but it didn’t come. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t - ”

“It’s fine,” Edward replied absently. Despite the nausea and bile that rose to his throat whenever he thought about it, he found himself seriously contemplating the answer. How could he not when it was Simon asking?

_If it could be how it was again. How it was before. How I believed it was._

“It’s not that simple,” he said slowly. “I thought it would be forever, but what we had, and what I thought we had…they weren’t the same.”

_If I could be enough. If I could erase those last few days from my memory._

“Besides, imagine if he’d never left — that would be rather odd, wouldn’t it? We’d never have met.” As he spoke, he saw that Simon was scrutinizing his face; for what, he wasn’t sure. “Well, it’s true,” he mumbled defensively.

There didn’t seem to be much else to say. Feeling the need to change the subject, he leaned over and rubbed their noses together. “We fell asleep too quickly last night.”

Simon grinned and dropped his gaze. “We did.”

“Plenty of time to make up for it, don’t you think?”

_If he really loved me._

When they were together like this — eyes soft, bodies desperately seeking contact, breathless laughter shared between them — it wasn’t too difficult to forget that Simon had a different perception of what they were doing, especially now that he was gradually breaking himself of the tendency to ignore his own needs. Each time, Edward went in knowing that the sobering reality would eventually set in, but he’d developed a way to cope: _At least I know._ Unlike last time, he wasn’t under a delusion; he knew it wasn’t love.

If he focused on the good moments (and there were many of them), he could just about face it. He could even enjoy the way they held each other afterwards.

-

“We’ve really earned this.”

Simon couldn’t disagree. Edward had spent the evening glued to his desk in a race to write about a million words in one go (“It’s not a _race_ , Simon,” he’d tutted as he scribbled away. “I’m only striking while the iron of inspiration is hot.”). By the time he’d finally lumbered into the bedroom, Simon had been on the verge of giving up and going to sleep.

Now, clothing hastily pushed aside, they were taking advantage of a different kind of inspiration, and he was riding the edge between overwhelming lust and crashing fatigue, trying to get his reward — both rewards — for waiting what felt like years.

He got there first (not unusual these days) and relaxed with a yawn into the pillows for the final moments.

Firm hands moved down his body to strip him of damp clothes and disentangle their limbs. He let out a hiss of pain as they reached his thighs.

“Sore?” was panted into his ear along with a kiss.

“A bit.”

“Not the time for a repeat, I take it? Ah, well.” With a rueful smile, Edward lay down next to him and took his hand.

“No, no,” Simon interrupted. He took in a few gulps of air to steady himself. He could work through a little pain; he’d done it under worse circumstances. “I can go again. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” he said lightly, turning to his side.

Like a lamp being extinguished, the playful spark disappeared from Edward’s eyes, and a frown formed between his eyebrows. “Disappoint me?” he repeated quietly.

It appeared that Simon had touched a nerve, but he couldn’t work out how or why exactly. “As I said, I wouldn’t want to,” he said again, more seriously this time to ensure that Edward understood. As much as he normally enjoyed his job, he didn’t really want to draw out this particular session.

“And yet, here we are again.”

_What?_

He sat up and looked at Edward in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

Edward looked like he immediately regretted saying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - ”

“No, you meant it.” Dread and something else, something Simon had felt building for awhile, seeped out into his words. “You’re saying I’ve disappointed you. How?”

“It’s nothing. It’s not your fault.”

“ _How?_ ”

“Couldn’t we just…”

“Tell me.”

“It’s my fault really.” Edward was sitting up now as well, knees pressed to his chest and eyes trained on his own clasped hands. “I thought we could carry on, even though you see this, us, as…work. I think I was wrong.”

Simon felt something break inside him at those words. “What difference does it make?” he retorted. “You’re thinking of _him_ all the time, aren’t you, even though he left you. Why does it matter how I see us? I might as well be nothing next to the great love of your life.”

“That’s not true!”

“Deny it all you like, but you’re just using me, the way you said you didn’t want to, and it’s still not enough for you. Why…” Realizing that he was shaking with fear and anger, Simon took a deep breath, released it slowly until he felt marginally more stable. “Why?”

Edward looked up at him helplessly. “I wanted you to stay with me.”

  


Edward lowered his eyes, ashamed at how childish it sounded now echoing in his head — _I wanted you to stay with me,_ as if Simon was a toy he didn’t want to put back in the chest. He couldn’t be like this, he had to be better than this.

“Look, just…just forget about all of this for a minute.” Simon’s voice was gentler now. “In the end, what is it that you want from me?”

_I want us to have met in some other place far away from here, in some other time, and fallen in love._

_Failing that, I want us to make each other happy._

Then he looked up into Simon’s face, saw the youth and sincerity there, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep asking him to shoulder this mess, and so -

“Whatever you want.”

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not an answer.”

“No, it’s the only answer.” Edward gritted his teeth against the pain of admitting this, word by measured word. “I should never have forced you to stay.”

“You didn’t force me.”

“Persuaded, then. Several times over, even though you’re not mine to keep. It’s time I stopped doing that.”

_Say it. Just say it. I wouldn’t want to be with me either._

“Do you really think so little of yourself?”

Edward’s face flamed as he realized he’d spoken those goading thoughts out loud. “And what of it?” he replied without heat. He didn’t have the energy to be defiant.

Simon was searching his face again, cradling his cheek with a mercifully cool hand. “I think what I want,” he said after a considered pause, “is to know more. About you, about what I am to you. Not knowing is - well, it’s too much like how it used to be. At work.”

 _You’re everything to me_ was on the tip of Edward’s tongue before he checked himself. It felt genuine in the moment, but he didn’t trust himself; it was exactly the sort of trite, extravagant statement that he’d refuse to believe. “Then you’ll decide?” he asked in a small voice.

“Then I’ll decide.” Simon pushed Edward’s legs down until they were flat on the bed, then lay down with his head in his lap, facing away.

“Tell me about him.”

  


“There’s nothing else to tell.” Edward’s tone was completely incongruous with the tender way he was stroking Simon’s hair. “It ended. I thought it wouldn’t.”

Simon took a deep breath and reminded himself that he needed to ask. He didn’t have a rational explanation for it; all he knew was that if he didn’t, the unknown would keep gnawing at him. “Why did you think it wouldn’t end? What was special about him?”

It sounded as though Edward was struggling to form words, but Simon waited patiently, eyes half-closed, until they emerged all in a rush. “He was my best friend. We could be together for hours on end and not feel bored or tired. We thought the world of each other…or I thought the world of him, anyway. Being with him felt so _safe_ , like we would last forever even if civilization crumbled to dust around us.”

 _And being with me doesn’t give you any of that, I assume._ Simon pushed the unkind thought aside. He didn’t know where it had sprung from. “I’m sorry,” he offered quietly.

“So am I. As I said, I thought that with time…but there’s no forgetting some things. Or forgiving.”

“Forgiving?” Simon echoed. Edward didn’t seem the sort of person to hold a longstanding grudge, even over something like this — but then again, what did he know?

“Yes. If I can hope for you to forgive me for deceiving you…”

“Don’t,” Simon interrupted softly. “I knew what I was doing.”

“No…I was pretending to be content. Just like he was.”

It took some time for the meaning to sink in. “He didn’t - ”

“Have someone else?” The sheer bitterness in those words was enough to make Simon sit up in alarm. Edward was staring straight ahead, his expression stony. “For _months_ , he…and I had no idea, no idea that he was madly in love with another man.”

Simon didn’t know what to say other than the obvious. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Edward scoffed at that and let his head fall back against the wall. “You were wrong before. I don’t think of him — much. It’s what he said to me that lingers.”

 _Enough._ Simon had heard enough. For the time being, he accepted Edward’s explanation, but the painful knot in his gut which had formed at the beginning of the conversation was only getting tighter with each new revelation.

 _We would last forever even if civilization crumbled to dust around us._ What would it be like to be that important to someone, he wondered as he laid his head on Edward’s shoulder. It was unlikely that he’d ever find out.

-

It was morning, and Simon was there beside him, asleep. That was reason enough to stretch his stiff arms out — carefully, so as not to disturb the situation — and indulge in a little sigh of relief.

Predictably, it was the sigh that woke Simon. With an apologetic grimace, Edward turned his head to face the ceiling, and only looked over again when he felt a nudge at his side.

As they gazed at each other, Edward felt his resolve weakening. He wasn’t ready to lose this — waking up with Simon, watching his eyes light up, feeling contented at his contentment. _Maybe that should have been enough,_ a voice chided. _Maybe if you’d given him what he wanted from the beginning, accepted the arrangement for what it was, it wouldn’t have come to this._

“You look sad.”

“You can hardly blame me for that.” As with many things he’d said lately, Edward felt instant regret. “Sorry. I am trying to be less pathetic. Really.”

Simon snorted with laughter, but he also laid a comforting hand on Edward’s face. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “You want to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing isn’t what you want. It doesn’t make you pathetic.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“And you deserve someone who can give you both.”

Edward closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears as well. He had been expecting something like this, and yet - 

“Someone you can admire, and who…” Simon dropped his hand and looked away. “…who _needs_ you like he needs air. I can’t be that person. I can’t just…lose myself like that.”

“You’re right,” Edward said quickly before he could blurt anything else. Simon _was_ right, so right, and any protest he made would only be more of the same — him trying to cling onto something that would make them both unhappy.

Ultimately, he was choosing greater happiness. It still hurt. 

_I can’t just lose myself like that._

“You can stay for as long as you need.” His mouth was speaking, disconnected from his heart. “I’ll move back into my room, and I won’t - you know.”

The blurred image of Simon nodded. “Thank you.”

-

“It’s cold,” Simon muttered to himself. He’d taken up the habit again; it couldn’t be helped. “A week of this and it’s still so…cold.”

He groaned and kicked off his covers in frustration. It wasn’t a physical chill he was feeling, but the lack of a body next to him; in a matter of months, he’d become someone who couldn’t abide sleeping alone, and who reached out to an empty bed in the night, expecting to be pulled against a solid chest and held. It was ridiculous — he’d always slept alone at the brothel, not even bothering with the chummy bed-sharing that some of the other boys did. He had never been like this.

He decided to go and walk the kitchen floor for awhile. However, he wasn’t surprised to find Edward already pacing it, gin in hand. 

“It’s full. See?” he said by way of greeting, holding up the bottle to show that he was telling the truth. “There’s no need to look so worried.”

Simon very much doubted it would have been full if he’d arrived a few minutes later. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

They had been like this for a week. Polite, physically distant — they touched even less than they had in the first few days — yet spending a great deal of time together as they’d done before. It felt odd, like they were actors in a play who were speaking their lines without direction. 

Edward wasn’t coping well, if his daily haggard appearance was anything to go by. Normally, the direction would have told Simon to offer comfort through sex, but that was hardly appropriate in this case.

“I’m going to - ” Edward gestured vaguely toward the door. “I’ll try and go to bed. Good night.”

“Good night.”

And Simon was alone again, and suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore — the shivering was even worse when he wasn’t surrounded by the bed and the memories it held. Before he knew where his feet were taking him, he was at Edward’s bedroom door.

“Simon? Is something wrong?” Edward asked in alarm. He was flat on his back, bottle in hand and clearly nowhere near sleep.

_I miss you._

_I miss you I miss you I miss you I -_

Simon bit his lip, not wanting to let loose a flood of raw emotion that could neither be trusted nor taken back. Instead, he approached carefully and sat down next to Edward. He breathed in his scent, felt warmth spread through his body from where their hands were touching.

“Could I stay here tonight? I’d like to.”

Edward opened and closed his mouth a few times, ran a hand through his already-messy hair, and finally settled on “’Course.”

Any hesitation on either of their parts evaporated as soon as they were both under the covers. Simon found himself wrapped in the arms he’d been longing for, his face buried in Edward’s shoulder, and all at once, he felt the chills melting away.

-

The sunlight streaming in through the windows and directly onto their faces meant they couldn’t feign sleep anymore, and that meant he had to stop holding on.

Edward kept his eyes closed for a few seconds longer, preparing himself for the imminent loss of warmth and contact. _Three…four…_ However, instead of the expected pulling away, a kiss to his temple startled him into opening them. Simon was still next to him, propped up on his elbow. 

“Thank you. For letting me stay.” Simon laid a hand on his chest. “Listen, I’ve really - ”

“It can’t happen again.”

Edward actually gasped in surprise at his own blurted-out words, but repeating them in his mind made them make sense. Simon, for his part, turned pale at them. “What do you mean?”

“If it did, it would be - how many times would it be?”

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Think about it.” It was costing Edward more than he’d admit to give voice to these thoughts, but it had to be done. “Every time, you’d leave in the morning, and it would be like last week again. _Every_ time. How many more times would we go through that before I can’t bear it anymore?” 

“I don’t want to leave.”

The hand on his chest was still there, Edward noticed. He looked down at it, then up at Simon. “Don’t want to leave?” he parroted, trying to understand.

“No.” 

He jumped as Simon leaned over and kissed him once, twice, soft and then hard. “I’ve missed you.”

“I…”

“I have missed you so much.” 

Edward looked and listened carefully, but there was no air of resignation, no seductive undertone. The realization that it was different this time gave him the courage to exhale. “I’ve missed you too,” he confessed. “It’s been hell without you.”

Simon’s smile faltered briefly. “Without me? Or without anyone in your bed?”

Edward understood; as absurd as the question sounded to him now, the answer had to be made clear for both their sakes. “Without you,” he whispered. “Not just anyone. I need you.”

“Well, good.” Simon’s laugh — god, but Edward had missed hearing it — was tinged with real relief, and it eased the tension between them. “I was afraid that if you got drunk enough, you’d go out and bring another young man home.”

“Oh, I see,” Edward huffed in mock outrage. “I thought you were worried for my health.”

“I am, actually.” In one swift movement, Simon climbed on top of him and pressed him into the mattress. “In that I’d like you healthy so that we can do more of this.”

“Oh?”

“And so that you don’t make any more terrible decisions while drunk.”

“You were a good decision,” Edward replied without hesitation, entranced by the happiness he saw shining in Simon’s eyes.

“I know.”


End file.
